


You Are The Opera (Always On Time And In Tune)

by PepperF



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: 603 Basic Crisis Room Decorum, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-09 19:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10419648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: So, uh... hi there. It's been a while? *clears throat* I actually started this one after watching ep 603,Basic Crisis Room Decorum, the first time around. And lo and behold, a mere two years later (jfc), it's done!Thanks to Bethany, as always, for sticking with me for this, poking me periodically to make sure the fic hadn't died, providing excellent feedback on what worked and what didn't, and just generally being an all-round wonderful human being. :)It's all done, I'm just posting this in chapters (one per day) because I'm that kind of person.





	1. I'm a reckless mistake

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh... hi there. It's been a while? *clears throat* I actually started this one after watching ep 603, _Basic Crisis Room Decorum_ , the first time around. And lo and behold, a mere two years later (jfc), it's done!
> 
> Thanks to Bethany, as always, for sticking with me for this, poking me periodically to make sure the fic hadn't died, providing excellent feedback on what worked and what didn't, and just generally being an all-round wonderful human being. :)
> 
> It's all done, I'm just posting this in chapters (one per day) because I'm that kind of person.

It had been a long week. Hell, it had been a long forty years, and by the end of Friday he was feeling the weight of every weary minute. So he chose to blame the tiredness for what happened—that, and the tequila. He could never get the hang of tequila.

It wasn't his fault he couldn't be strong for even one more minute. Could anyone really blame him? And it wasn't Annie's fault, except in that it took two to tango—but she was just being her bold, beautiful, adorable self, the person he loved best in the whole world (and yes, he could admit that, if only in his own head). So, yes. Tiredness and tequila.

He'd been hyper-aware of her all evening—all day, in fact, since she'd nearly left last night. He'd had to spend a full day at school running on coffee and no fucking sleep, his mind constantly circling back to that moment when she'd turned and walked out. He hadn't been angry, or surprised—he'd just felt an overwhelming, suffocating feeling of inevitability. He realized then that he'd expected it to happen. He'd known that one day she would leave. 

But then Abed had looked at him expectantly, like he was waiting for Jeff to fight back, and Jeff had found himself pushing them all to come up with an alternative idea, a new ad that fitted Annie's ridiculous, heartfelt principles—and it had worked, and Annie had stayed. And while he was glad, and relieved, and so stupidly grateful that she was granting him this reprieve, he couldn't help feeling that it was only delaying the inevitable. So, all day, whenever he caught a glimpse of her, he got this sick feeling in his heart, like it was expanding with relief but then wincing back with the expectation of pain in the very next second. It was exhausting. All the coffee hadn't helped, either. He was going to get a damn ulcer.

And then, instead of going home to sleep for fifteen hours like sane people, they'd gone back to apartment 303 to celebrate their victory ("It was a _moral_ victory, Jeff!") over City College. Most of their gatherings were there now, given that it was home to three-quarters of the remaining core study group. That was where the tequila came in, and then the dancing and the singing. At one point, Annie had curled up next to him on the new couch and laid her head on his shoulder, and sighed into his neck as she talked to Abed about... something, he hadn’t been paying attention. She'd absently twisted a loose thread from his sweater in her finger, around and around until it got stuck, and he'd had to carefully prize it off so she didn't unravel the whole damn thing. And then she'd smiled drowsily at him, blinking slowly, and said, "My hero."

After that, he'd made serious inroads into the tequila.

By the time Frankie, Elroy and Chang had gone home, Jeff was drunk and on the verge of falling asleep, Craig, Britta and Abed were passed out on couches and rugs around the room, and Annie was... he'd lost track of Annie. In his sleep-deprived, tequila-fueled state, he decided to go in search of her, because maybe she was lonely and needed company, or had passed out somewhere uncomfortable and needed his help, or was on her computer applying to transfer to City College and needed to be talked out of it. And that was how he came to run into her as she exited the bathroom with her hair loose and dressed in the most adorable pair of pjs (blue with little pink and yellow fish).

She must've been as unsteady on her feet as he was, because she clutched at his shirt to keep from falling. His hands went automatically to her waist. 

"Oops!" said Annie.

"Annie," said Jeff.

 _Kiss her_ , said the tequila. 

And right then he couldn't think of a single, solitary reason why not.

Annie hummed against his lips, and put her arms around his neck. She tasted of toothpaste and smelled like mint and tequila and that nice shampoo she used (possibly Aveda?), and all his senses were reeling. He lurched forwards, gathering her close, and she moved into him, just like the last time they'd done this, like she was made to fit against him, and it was _perfect_. 

Then she was walking backwards, still holding onto him, and he followed her blindly. He hadn't thought about where this was going; all he knew was that he had to keep kissing her, and who needed air anyhow? When he realized she was leading him into her bedroom, he growled and kicked the door shut behind him, pulling her even closer. God, did she have any idea what she did to him?

They fell in an ungainly heap onto the edge of the bed, slid off, and rolled onto the floor, taking the duvet with them. But it was a horizontal surface, and that was about all Jeff cared about at that moment, because she was straddling his hips and unbuttoning his shirt, and his mind was going fuzzy with the Annie of it all (and, repetition for emphasis, the tequila).

Things seemed to happen in a blur after that. She was naked and so was he, and wow, she really did have fantastic breasts, and she was pulling her entire bedside drawer out to reach the box of condoms. And then, in a moment of absolute clarity, he was staring into her eyes as he slid into her.

"God, Jeff..." she moaned, clutching at his back, and he had to kiss her again. 

It wasn't his finest hour as far as skillful lovemaking went, but it was definitely the most passionate, the most intense—and when she was shuddering under him, her throat bared and nails sinking into his shoulders, he could finally let go.

\---

Some hours later, he woke up to find it was daylight, and the tequila was no longer his friend. He and Annie were tangled tightly in her duvet and one another, on the floor and half under her bed, and he was sweaty, sticky, hungover, and a horrible human being who was about to be duly punished for his crimes. 

Annie was still asleep, but there was no way he was getting out of this without waking her and having the inevitable conversation—and god, he didn't want that, not in this state. He needed distance, and clothes, and maybe more alcohol. He also desperately needed toothpaste, Advil, a shower, and a large glass of water, not necessarily in that order. Shit, what had he been thinking? Well, clearly he hadn't been thinking, because fuck. Everything hurt, and he couldn't stop a tiny groan.

"Mmm?" mumbled Annie in response, and Jeff tensed up, which only served to wake her up more. "Oh god… Jeff?"

He winced, hearing an echo of the night before. It was amazing, he reflected, what a difference tone made. "Um, hey, Annie." She shivered. "Oh, are you cold?" The duvet was wrapped awkwardly around them, and he tried to tug at it, but quickly gave up when it threatened to unravel entirely and dump them naked and cold on the carpet.

"No, I'm… oh god, my head."

"Yeah," he agreed. He couldn't see her expression, because she was tucked against his chest, but he could picture it clearly. "Are you gonna puke?"

There was an ominous silence. "…No," she said eventually, having given it due consideration. "Probably not," she added.

"Aaand that's my cue to get up."

He sat up, carefully averting his eyes from her, and oh thank fuck, there were his boxers. Braving the inevitable embarrassment, he struggled out of the cover and quickly into his underwear, and felt less vulnerable for the layer of clothing. He wanted to leap up and escape the room, but that wasn't fair. None of this was fair. He sat down heavily on her bed. Fucking tequila. He was never touching the stuff again.

Annie, meanwhile, had wrapped the duvet around herself like a bulky sarong. When he finally glanced fleetingly in her direction, he grimaced at the obvious stubble burn she was sporting. No way could she hide that from their friends—she'd just have to avoid them until it died down. He tried not to see the wary expression in her eyes.

"Jeff," she said, but then seemed to run out of steam. There was a long silence. "You're going to say this was a mistake, aren't you?"

He kept his eyes on his knees. "Annie," he sighed, and then gestured between them. "You and I… this isn't where we're at, is it? I mean, I'm..." _middle-aged and stuck at Greendale_ , "…you know, and you're…" _young and bright and going places._

"A nice girl, _but_ ," she completed the sentence, sounding infinitely weary, and he frowned at her interpretation.

"No, that's not—I didn't mean that." He rubbed his hands over his face. "Look, I need... _all_ the coffee. Can we—can we just go get some coffee together? We should talk." Because, although it was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do, he knew he had to get his shit together and find some way to explain himself, so she didn't think he was rejecting her because he didn't love her, or something equally stupid. He might be emotionally arrested, according to his last two therapists, but even he knew he couldn't just fuck a girl like Annie—a girl who was his friend as well as the woman he loved—and then rush out the door and pretend it had never happened. Not if he didn't want to lose his friendship with her, and probably his testicles when the group found out.

There was another tense silence. "Okay," she said at last, with great reluctance. "I guess we should talk."

He turned politely away as they both dressed, resisting the temptation to take one last look so he could burn the image of her body into his retinas. When he next looked, she was standing with her ear pressed to the bedroom door.

"I think it's safe," she whispered. "I can't hear anything out there, so they might still be asleep. Unless they're lying in ambush. But that's pretty unlikely, right? I mean, no one saw us go in here."

"Great." Coffee, Advil, and talking. He could do this.

Annie cracked the door and peered out, then straightened up and ventured forth.

She came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room. Jeff, who had followed close on her heels, slammed into her, and had to catch her shoulders. Annie was staring in horror towards the couch area, which was unfortunately hidden around the corner from her room.

"Mom?" she said, weakly. "Dad?"

Well, shit.

\---

Jeff immediately plastered on a smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Edison, hi," he said, straightening up and trying, probably unsuccessfully, to look like he'd neither necked tequila straight from the bottle nor banged their daughter last night. Annie, after her first words, had simply frozen, and he could feel the shoulders under his fingers practically vibrating with tension. If she fled, there was no way he was staying put to deal with the fallout. 

He'd met Annie's parents before. Her dad had come to the wider graduation party, two years ago (there'd been an exclusive one just for the study group afterwards, which had been almost infinitely less tense), and before that, her mom had come to... had it really been her 21st birthday party? Oh god, her parents were going to straight up murder him right now.

Mr. Edison lowered the newspaper he was holding. "You're finally up, Annie," he said. "And… Jeff, wasn't it?"

"Yessir." Jesus. He squeezed her shoulders, holding her in place in front of him like a shield. "Annie, you never said your parents were visiting today," he said through his teeth, trying to sound delighted (for the audience) and accusatory (for her). Because, seriously, this was information he needed to know yesterday. It would've been more effective than any number of cold showers. 

At the very least, he would have known to leave her bedroom this morning by means of the fire escape.

Annie flared to life again suddenly, like she'd just been rebooted. "Mom! Dad! You're early!" she said. "You remember Jeff, right? My—my boyfriend?"

Jeff was pretty sure that a horrible rictus grin was permanently frozen on his face. She put her hand over his, on her shoulder, and gave him a hard squeeze, and yeah, he got it. Jeff-the-surprise-boyfriend was bad enough, but Jeff-the-older-man-who-got-me-drunk-and-had-sex-with-me-last-night-but-no-we're-not-together-and-hey-did-I-mention-he's-a-teacher-at-my-school was infinitely worse, and likely to lead to his immediate demise. He wasn't about to argue with Annie's plan, but karma was still a stone cold bitch with a vindictive sense of humor. 

"Oh, Annie, you didn't tell us you had a boyfriend," said Annie's mom, sounding a little like Shirley and a lot like a suicide helpline. Annie's mom had her eyes (or, technically, he supposed it was the other way around), and that made Jeff feel even worse. 

"No, I…" Annie wisely changed the subject. "How did you get in, anyhow?"

"I let them in," said Abed, making them both jump and turn quickly. He was in the small kitchen—still in his pajamas, with a bag of ice on his head at a deliberately comic angle—and was watching the proceedings with interest. "You weren't awake when they arrived, so they said they'd wait. I figured you'd be okay with that, but that was—"

"FINE, that was fine," said Annie, hurriedly. Abed gave them both a long look, and then a brisk nod.

"Classic rom-com situation," he said. "No problem, I can work with that. It's a shame we're not at Jeff's; the dean is perfect for the role of obnoxiously wacky neighbor. Annie, you should probably make waffles."

"Oh, is he gone?" said Jeff, remembering vaguely that the dean had been asleep on a rug when he and Annie had… argh. A further, more alarming thought occurred to him. "Where… where's Britta?"

"Britta," said Britta, "is here." She closed the bathroom door with a snap behind her. She'd probably been waiting in there for the perfect moment, thought Jeff, irritably. "Good morning, Annie," she said, and turned to Jeff. "Good morning, shithead."

"Nice entrance," said Abed. If he got popcorn, Jeff was absolutely going to punch him.

"BrittacanIhaveaword," said Annie, charging across the room to push Britta straight back into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind them, and there was the muffled sound of voices. Jeff, left undefended, felt a rising urge to flee. After all, wouldn't it be better, easier for everyone if he wasn't here?

He met Abed's knowing expression, and sighed in defeat. Annie might never forgive him if he bolted. "Line?" he asked quietly.

"Coffee," prompted Abed.

"Yes! Coffee. Can I get anyone a drink? There's coffee, um, probably some kind of weird tea that Britta likes, maybe some juice…"

"Thank you, Jeff, I'd love some coffee," said Mrs. Edison, whose first name was… nope, he couldn't remember. 

Mr. Edison—Frank? Bill? Something solid and reliable, a name that said _I know how to kill you swiftly, bury you in the backyard, and build a patio over your body_ —shook his head. "So, you and my daughter," he said. _The paving slabs will be cream and brown sandstone._

Jeff was wise to that particular trick, though, and wasn't about to fill any awkward silences. "Yes, sir." He busied himself finding coffee and mugs. Abed handed him the milk and gave him a thumbs-up; Jeff wasn't sure if it was to signal that he was doing okay, approval of the supposed development in his and Annie's relationship, or to show his appreciation for the entertainment. "Milk or sugar, Mrs. Edison?"

"Black, with half a spoon of sugar. And please, call me Carolyn."

Her smile was too easy, and too similar to Annie's tentative, hopeful, let's-be-friends look. It was probably a trap, and he was letting his soft spot for the daughter fool him into liking the mother. He had to tread carefully.

The coffee was just ready when Annie came out of the bathroom with a quashed but rebellious Britta, who glanced at Annie's parents, then pressed her lips together in a thin line and settled for glaring at Jeff. 

Jeff ignored her and handed a mug of coffee to Annie, who took it gratefully and passed him a couple of Advil in return. _It's too early for all this crap_ , said her eyes, and he flashed her an encouraging smile. If nothing else, they still made a great team, and he felt oddly grateful to the otherwise nightmarish scenario for this little reminder.

"So how long have you two been dating?" asked Mrs—Carolyn. 

Jeff looked at Annie, who leaned her elbows on the counter, looking composed. Of course she'd managed to come up with a plan while she argued Britta into submission; she was amazing. 

"Only three weeks now," she said, giving him a reassuring smile. "That's why I hadn't gotten around to telling you yet. It's all just a bit new and—and unexpected."

"Unexpected?" said Mr. Edison, sharply. 

"Well, you know, Jeff's been one of my closest friends for years," said Annie. "But I never really thought we'd end up together. Hoped, maybe…" She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, and his stupid, tired heart flip-flopped. "I guess it was just the right moment." 

God, he really wanted to kiss her.

Fortunately, Britta gave a strangled laugh, distracting him before he could do something dumb like pull Annie close and tell her he loved her. She wouldn't have believed him anyway, not like this. Crap, this was messed up. Forcing himself to turn away, he looked at her parents, which definitely worked to quell any rising emotions. Her mom was smiling fondly, but her father was giving him the hairy eyeball. "So, um, are you here to take Annie out to brunch or something?" he asked.

"Yes, we've all had busy schedules, so it's been a while. You should join us," said Carolyn graciously.  
Annie laughed quickly. "No! No, no, I think Jeff has a thing—"

"You know, I'd really love to, but maybe some other time,” Jeff said at almost the same time. "I have to go to—I have a—"

"—lesson plan—"

"—to write. For my classes. Lots of lesson plans." Shit, he'd really meant to avoid the whole 'professor' thing.

"Oh, you're a teacher? I thought you were Annie's classmate," said Carolyn, giving her ex-husband an inscrutable look.

"I was! I was. For nearly four years, actually." _We took naps together and ate paste._ "But I graduated, you know, and then they asked me to stay on and teach law, so..." He shrugged and looked down, as though being law professor at Greendale Community College was something to be modestly proud of, and not a reason to be deeply ashamed at the failure he'd made of his life.

"That sounds like a _fascinating_ story," said Mr. Edison, jovially. "Surely you can leave the lesson plans until later, and come to brunch with us, tell us all about it? You can't have that much to do, can you? It’s already halfway through the fall semester."

"Do come," said Carolyn, with slightly more convincing warmth. "We'd love to get to know you better."

Shit, he'd walked straight into that trap. He really ought to know better than to let himself get good-cop-bad-copped like that. "Uh…" 

"Yeah, Jeff, you should go," said Britta, with malevolent sweetness. "Weren't you saying just the other day that you'd pretty much managed to get all your teaching prep done over the summer?"

Jeff glared at her because yes, he had said that, but he hadn't thought it would be used as evidence for the prosecution. "Well, you know, we all had a bit of a party last night, and I don't live here, so while that sounds great, I really should go home and—" 

Britta held up the emergency bag he'd kept stashed there since it had been Troy and Abed's place. "You're welcome to use our shower." 

"Wow, that's so helpful, Britta, _thank you_ ," he said, through gritted teeth.

And that was how he ended up going to brunch with Annie's parents.


	2. I'm a shut up sit down

Showered, changed and caffeinated, he should have felt better able to cope, but somehow his usual armament of indifference wasn't sliding into place. He felt… kind of raw. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had time away from Annie yet, to process everything that had happened—yeah, that was probably it. He needed some 'me' time, with maybe a rejuvenating face mask, a bottle of that new double IPA, and zoning out in front of ESPN. What he _didn't_ need was to be pressed up close to Annie in a diner booth, with the scent of her shampoo reminding him of last night, and both her parents staring at him. 

Britta really was the WORST.

"So, what are your intentions towards my daughter?"

"Dad!" said Annie. 

Mr. Edison smiled. "I'm just making a joke, honey," he said, fooling no one. "I'm sure Jeff here can take a joke, right?" 

Jeff grinned queasily. 

"Although he's old enough that he ought to know what he wants out of a relationship, I would think," continued Mr. Edison. "I mean, you're… exactly how old are you, Jeff?"

Jeff swallowed. "Forty," he admitted. Carolyn visibly flinched. Honestly, he'd just about come to terms with it himself, but it sounded so much worse when talking to the parents of your twenty-four-year-old girlfriend. And she wasn't even really his girlfriend! Why, why, _why_ was he putting himself through this? Why—aside from the fact that he'd actually have to climb over Annie to do it—wasn't he walking out right now?

"Forty," said Mr. Edison, flatly. "Gosh, that's… a round number."

"He was only thirty-four when we met," said Annie, a little too readily.

"When you met. When you were eighteen."

Yeahhhhhh, he was going to die today. He wondered whether her mom would slip poison into his coffee when he went to the bathroom, or if her dad would simply run him over with his car when they left. Either way, he hoped it would be quick.

The universe took pity on him, for once, and sent the waitress over at that moment. Jeff looked at the menu. Well, if he was going to die, he might as well have a hearty last meal. "Pancakes," he said, "The large stack, multigrain, with turkey bacon, blueberries, and maple syrup. And coffee with cream." God, that felt good. Liberating, even. He sensed Annie's curious eyes on him. "I'm hungry," he shrugged, smirking at her. He guessed, more than saw, that Mr. Edison was grinding his teeth, and a wave of recklessness swept over him. "You must be, too," he added, voice low and suggestive. "Wanna share?" And for a moment he let everything he was feeling—love and lust and affection—roll through him like a blast of furnace heat. 

Annie's eyes flared in response, like she was reading his mind, and she drew in a sharp breath and bit her lip—damn, he loved that look on her. His arm, which had been stretched out along the top of the booth behind her, dropped down to wrap around her waist, pulling her tightly into his side. He was allowed to do that, right? If they really wanted to sell this to her parents? Hell, it was practically a good deed. 

"Black coffee," Annie said to the waitress, and then tilted her head up to look Jeff straight in the eyes. If he leaned down just a couple of inches… "We'll share the pancakes."

"Sure thing, sugar. What can I get you folks?"

Jeff didn't listen to Mr. and Mrs. Edison's order because there was a buzzing in his ears, brought on when Annie's gaze dropped to his lips. From this close he could see her pupils dilate, feel her pulse pick up speed. She stared boldly for a few moments, the air heavy between them, and then her own mouth curved up in a self-satisfied smile, and she turned away. 

Jeff felt breathless, giddy, and turned on, like they'd just been publicly making out. And when he finally managed to tear his gaze away from her profile, he could tell from the expressions on her parents' faces that they might just as well have been. He swallowed, and lifted his chin. If he was going down for this, he was going down fighting. 

"So, Annie's parents. Who had the best lawyer in the divorce? Purely professional curiosity, you understand."

\---

By the time their food arrived, he'd pushed the law-shark posturing about as far as he could without actually provoking Mr. Edison to lay him out with the napkin dispenser. Carolyn was harder to read—although she hadn't been able to hide her dismay about some aspects of the relationship, she'd been overtly supportive. Despite his finely-tuned bullshit detector, he hadn’t sensed anything amiss when she said that she was pleased Annie had found someone who made her happy. And while she'd been diplomatic about the divorce, Jeff had caught her hiding a smile at her ex-husband's grudging admission that he'd gotten the worse end of the deal. Jeff wasn't sure if there was a catch: was she really on their side, or was she just a good actress? Going by Annie's own compassionate nature and powers of deceit, it could be either. 

Amazingly, Annie didn't seem pissed about his little game, although she was definitely onto it. Instead, she leaned comfortably into his side, taking surprisingly little part in the conversation. If she hadn't liked it, she would have put a stop to it, so Jeff was pretty sure her silence was a green light. He suspected she had some unresolved anger issues there, and when he recalled some of the hints he'd gotten over the years about her shitty childhood, he was more than happy to help her play them out.

So when the waitress offered them an extra plate, Jeff declined it with a smile and a brief shake of his head. No. They were going to share properly, from one plate, like lovers in the honeymoon period, and Annie's dad would just have to deal with it. 

As it turned out, they couldn't actually finish the pancakes, even between the two of them—seriously, that was a TON of carbs—but he clashed forks with her over the last strip of bacon, and then pushed it towards her with a smile. "You have it."

"Aw, Jeff," she cooed, a little too sweetly, and pushed him the last couple of blueberries, smiling flirtily. "Here, I'm paying you back." 

It was sickeningly cute, and he sincerely hoped it was giving her father indigestion. He popped one of the blueberries between his teeth, and leaned towards her. Annie's eyes widened, and she slanted a quick look at her parents, and then tilted her face up to accept the berry, letting him steal a kiss in the process.

Jeff put the other berry in his mouth and bit into it with relish, grinning at Mr. Edison, who was looking increasingly apoplectic. "Sorry," he said, with not the tiniest drop of sincerity. "Sometimes I can't help myself around her."

"So I see," said Mr. Edison, grimly.

"Young love," said Carolyn, smiling valiantly.

"Well, in Annie's case, anyhow," said Mr. Edison, clashing eyes with Jeff again. "Forty is more middle-aged, wouldn't you say?"

Okay, Jeff might have come to terms with The Number, but that didn't mean he was happy to have it rubbed in his face. He frowned.

"Dad!" snapped Annie. "Enough."

For Annie's sake, Jeff reined in his instincts, and summoned a smile and a relatively civil change of conversation. "So was there some reason you were all meeting up today? I mean, the fact that you can be in the same room after all of that... I'm impressed." While Annie had clearly got her terrier-like attack genes from her dad, the sneaky, tactical side of her nature seemed to have come from her mom, who had definitely come out on top of the divorce proceedings. Jeff was more than a little terrified.

"Do I need a reason to take my little girl out to breakfast?" asked Mr. Edison, his jovial tone showing signs of strain. 

"Don't be patronizing, Dad," said Annie, briskly. "Of course there's a reason. Mom's selling the house."

Her mom straightened. "You already knew?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "Anthony called me. He was pretty upset." She looked at Jeff, and explained, "He gets so emotional sometimes."

Jeff gave her a tiny smirk. "Runs in the family, huh?"

Annie stuck her tongue out at him. "Anyway, that's just Anthony. I don't understand why I'm getting the kid-glove treatment." She looked suspiciously from one parent to the other. 

"Well, you know, after Anthony's... little episode, I realized that this might be a touchy subject," said Carolyn, awkwardly.

Mr. Edison—Jeff really needed to find out his first name—leaned forward and put his hand over Annie's. "We care about you, sweetheart," he said, his voice treacly with concern. "We didn't want to risk a relapse."

Annie tugged her hand away quickly, and glared at him. "Wow. You're doing this _now_? I don't know what's more insulting: that you think I might still need it, or that you think you have the right."

"We may not have always been perfect, but we're still your parents," said Mr. Edison, testily.

"You gave up your chance to interfere in my life a long time ago, Dad."

"Annie, you will not take that tone with me—"

"And I don't need you to treat me like I'm fragile. I have my friends, and I have Jeff—"

Mr. Edison scoffed loudly.

"Henry, let's not do this now," chided Carolyn. "Annie's obviously not going to overreact about the house, so we can just finish this nice meal—"

"Oh, yes, _nice_ ," snarled Mr. Edison, who'd finally been pushed too far. "With Professor Humbert here?"

"Hey," snapped Jeff. "Sir, I appreciate that's the concern talking, but you don't need to protect Annie from me. For one thing, she's perfectly capable of looking after herself—and for another, I love her and I'd never do anything to hurt her." Annie would assume he was just playing his part, but it felt good to say the truth out loud for once, all the same. 

"And I love him," she said, which would have been music to his ears, had he not known they were putting on a performance for the benefit of her parents. "And I have had just about enough of this conversation. Jeff and I are leaving now. Mom, it was lovely to see you, and I'll call you later. Dad, I'll speak to you when you're ready to apologize to Jeff, and to stop treating me like a child." She slid out of the seat and stuck out her hand to Jeff, all the while glaring daggers at her father. "Come on, Jeff."

Jeff quickly pulled some money from his wallet to cover the tab, and stood up to join Annie. Under the glowering eyes of her father—who was clearly _not_ ready to apologize—he took her hand, trying to look as though it was something he did all the time and the warmth of her palm against his didn't at all send a little thrill through him. She curled her fingers tightly, angrily around his, and tugged. 

"This was great," said Jeff, not one to leave the last word to someone else. "We _must_ do it again sometime." 

Unless he had something better to do, like a live-action reenactment of the torture scene from _Marathon Man_.

\---

Outside the restaurant, Jeff slowed, forcing Annie—who was still holding his hand—to come to a halt. "Hey," he said seriously. "You okay? That was... kind of intense."

"How dare he?! How dare he treat me like a child—and how dare he speak to you like that? He was never there for me when I did need him, and now he thinks he can step in and interfere, after I dragged myself back out of the mud—after I spent _years_ piecing my life back together! Now that he can see I have 'potential' again, he wants to take the credit!" Her words were rushed and angry, queueing up to escape. "And how dare he judge our relationship like that, when he hadn't even attempted to learn the first thing about you, or spent any time with us together!"

Without a second thought, Jeff pulled her towards him and put his arms around her, tucking her under his chin. Annie froze for a moment, and then relaxed into him, letting go of a heavy sigh.

"God. Is he doing this on purpose, do you think? Does he actually want me to have another nervous breakdown, so I'll go back to being the little girl that he can take care of and control?"

Jeff chuckled. "Maybe? Your dad is scary."

"Tell me about it." She tilted her head upwards, and gave him a tired smile. "Is it wrong that I'm glad you got mixed up in all this? I mean, I'm sorry that you had to go through that, but I'm really, _really_ grateful that you were there. It was, like, a thousand times less stressful, knowing I had someone to watch my back."

And there it was—the elephant in the room. How, wondered Jeff, had he managed to forget, even for a moment, that he and Annie had had sex last night? 

"I'm glad I could be there, last night and this morning. Wow, okay, that came out creepy and weird, like I was just in the room while you—but you know, that's not what I meant, I was very definitely present, in the fullest sense, for the whole—and that's even creepier—hey, I think we managed to fool your parents, right?" He was aware he was Goldbluming, but he couldn't seem to stop. "Nice acting in there, by the way, you deserve an Emmy. You can let them down gently in your own time, I'm sure they'll be relieved to hear I'm out of the picture. I can't read your mom but your dad clearly wants to kill me, I was surprised I made it out of there alive, if he'd had a gun I'm pretty sure I'd be dead right—"

"Jeff." Her voice stopped him, and he met her eyes. Annie drew herself up, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. "I wasn't acting."

Her voice was steady, but everything else about her said that she was scared and uncertain, that she knew she was taking a risk in putting herself out there again, being the one brave enough to confront this thing between them again, giving him one last chance—and he was pretty sure it was his _last_ chance. So he took the only reasonable course of action, under the circumstances.

He kissed her.

\---

"Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"We still need to—oh—to talk."

"Yeah. Sure. Okay."

"Not right now, of course."

"Yeah, no."

"But later."

"Mm-hmm."

"Good. Just so that's clear. I wouldn't want there to be... to be any misunderstandings."

"Annie?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Oh... oh, yeah. Okay."


	3. I'm a wreck what I love most

As far as post-coital scenarios went, their second attempt was a significant improvement. For one thing, they were actually in a bed this time; and for another, they were in Jeff's apartment, so he was almost completely certain that there would be no awkward encounters with friends or family members awaiting them when they finally got up. Plus his headache and vague nausea were gone, he'd had a substantial brunch, he wasn't in need of coffee or water or Advil...

And Annie loved him.

At least, that was what she'd implied. That wasn't just wishful thinking brought on by stress, was it? He thought back over her words, searching for any possible misunderstanding. _I love him,_ she'd said. And then, _I wasn't acting._ That was pretty definitive, right?

He could always ask her. After all, she was currently naked in his arms, relaxed and warm, humming a little tune (why was everyone so obsessed with 'Daybreak'?), so there was probably no better time for him to get needy about feelings and stuff. He could just do it—just go for it. He could just say... crap, what could he say? _Did you mean it? Do you really like me?_ God, this was worse than high school! Maybe he should play it cool, tease her... but what if he pissed her off? Annie was competitive and proud, he didn't want to be in a stand-off with her about who'd be the first to confess their feelings in the cold light of... mid-afternoon. He had a feeling that no one would win that sort of competition.

He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice when Annie stopped humming, or that she was apparently involved in a pretty intense mental conversation of her own. It wasn't until she spoke up that he realized that the Jeff in her head was being kind of a jerk. "We can pretend it was just meaningless sex if you want."

"What? No!" he said, before his anxieties got a chance to butt in. "Why would you even say that?" He moved so he could see Annie's face. She was frowning.

"I don't know, Jeff. Past history? Every time we get too close, you freak out and start gaslighting me so hard you could light Victorian London!" She looked down, her frown deepening. "And you haven't _said it_ ," she muttered, a note of insecurity in her voice.

It wasn't just the Jeff in her head who was being kind of a jerk, he realized. He shuffled down quickly so they were eye to eye. "I love you," he said, getting straight to the point. "I should have said that already."

It was like magic. Her frown disappeared and her eyes widened dramatically, lips parting slightly in wonder. She was practically glowing, and he wondered dazedly if it was actually because of him. 

"Really?" she whispered.

"Really. I would have said it earlier, but I kinda got distracted." He stroked a thumb along her cheek, and Annie's eyes drifted shut. It was easier, then, to ask the question that was preying on his mind. "So when you said earlier that you weren't acting—"

Her eyes snapped open. "I meant it when I said I love you," she confirmed immediately, and gave him a wry smile. "Wow, we've really done a number on each other, huh?"

Jeff grimaced—mainly so he didn't start beaming like an idiot. "One of us did, but I don't think it was you," he said. Dammit, he could feel his defenses eroding like sand. "You love me?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

"I know, so uncool, right?" said Annie, grinning. "How will I ever show my face?!"

"Well, as arbiter of all things cool at Greendale—" he ignored her incredulous huff, "which is kind of like declaring myself King of the Mole People, but never mind—let me tell you that falling in love with me is a sign of taste and refinement. You should wear it proudly."

"Oh my god, you are so vain!" She leaned into his shoulder, laughing, and Jeff lost a little more control over his grin, pressing his face into her hair. "In that case, falling in love with me is definitely _un_ cool and you should embrace it and learn to stop worrying about your image."

"Oh, no—falling in love with you is the height of cool," he assured her. "You'll see; now that I've done it, it'll be all the rage."

She giggled delightedly. "So does that mean that by next summer I'll have gone the way of slap bracelets and wallet chains?"

He shook his head emphatically, his arms tightening around her. "No, definitely not. Some things are classics. They never go out of style."

She leaned back so she could see him. Her eyes were twinkling. "Thank goodness you told me," she said. "Imagine if I'd gone around thinking I had to hide it—how dumb would I look?"

Jeff rolled and kissed her in one smooth move, and she laughed against his mouth, their teeth clashing. "I'm glad I could set you straight," he said, in an admirably controlled tone. "Any time you want to learn more, you just have to ask."

"Mmm, I love it when you talk down to me," she purred. 

Jeff lifted his head, staring down at her in a confused mix of horror and arousal. 

"What?" asked Annie. "Too much?"

Jeff shook his head. "You sound like a fantasy I once had," he confessed. "I hadn't realized how creepy it would sound in real life."

Annie stuck her tongue out, and then wriggled out from under him and sat up. "Do you mind if I take a shower?" she said. 

Jeff rolled onto his back and let his his arms drop to either side, waving one hand vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. "Be my guest. Towels are in the hall closet."

After she'd left the room, he remained on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a strange fizzing in his veins that he found hard to identify, at first. It was like his whole being was infused with bubbles of light, and was expanding and opening up. Was this... was this joy? It was—pure, unadulterated joy, like he'd mainlined a powerful narcotic. 

God, no wonder people did crazy things for love. Imagine feeling like this all the time! Why had he ever run from this? It felt almost too good to be true.

And there it was—the fly in the ointment, the fine print in the contract—the reason he'd always steered clear of Annie, or of anything that threatened to make him feel this good: _because he knew it couldn't last._

He recognized that old, familiar sensation as his heart constricted, only this time it was amplified a thousand times. He rubbed unconsciously at the center of his chest, feeling a burning ache. The irrepressible grin had disappeared as though it had never existed. He'd walked right into the trap he'd tried for years to avoid: the trap of believing this thing with Annie had a hope in hell of working out. And not only that, he'd dragged Annie down with him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

\---

He lay there, unmoving, while Annie showered and his world crashed down around his ears, remembering all the reasons he'd given himself over the years for why he shouldn't do this, why he shouldn't start anything with her. 

For one thing, there were sixteen whole years between them. Remembering what songs were on the charts the year she was born was not a good basis for a relationship. God, was it that fucking Robin Hood song? No, that had been the following year. In 1990 he'd bought the Vanilla Ice album with his birthday money. He'd spent the entire day learning the lyrics to 'Ice Ice Baby', and copying dance moves from a videotape of the MTV Top 20 Countdown, which was tragic on so many levels. That would have been a month before Annie was born. 

She was still so young. She had all the time in the world to make relationship mistakes—but someday she would be older and more selective. Then she'd want someone with more to offer than a middle-aged former lawyer who taught at fucking Greendale, no matter how handsome and great in bed he was. She was bright and optimistic and driven—she had prospects, and all he had was a past. Even when he was younger, no one would have described him as an optimist. She'd expect romance, and she deserved to be wooed. The closest he'd ever gotten to romance was proposing to their best friend. Shit, was that what she was expecting from him? She was the kind of person who might find it spontaneous and romantic, not desperate and panic-driven.

No, he couldn't do that to her. But what should he do? He couldn't break up with her, not now. She'd never forgive him, and if he really wanted to inflict some serious emotional scars, that was probably the most effective way. He couldn't do it. But how? When? 

Or what if he didn't? He considered that for a long moment, traitorous hope sneaking through his defenses. If he didn't try to end the relationship now, if he clung on for as long as she'd let him... what would happen? Would she stay with him? 

Probably not. 

Someday she'd realize that she was too good for him, and too good for Greendale, and finally move on. He would hit his ( _ugh_ ) next big age milestone before she even hit thirty-five. Would she regret getting involved with him then? Or would she see it coming, and break it off sooner?

Even worse, what if she did stay, and came to hate him for it?

God, what did the universe have against him? Why had her parents been there, to sabotage his attempts to get out of this with their friendship intact? He could have rationalized the first time, blamed it on the tequila, and that would have been—well, it would have been awful, but they could have made it work. But the second time... he had no excuses, nothing to hide behind. She knew how he felt, now, and she believed it meant they could have some kind of happy ending. Because for a moment, he'd let his guard down and allowed himself to believe it, too.

When Annie returned, wrapped in a towel, the broken shell of Jeff Winger managed to sit up and give her a wan smile. Her happy expression faltered as she looked him over.

"Jeff, are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Great." He yawned and stretched, trying to distract her, to give himself time to pull himself back together. "So what are your plans for today?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you freaking out right now?"

"No, I'm fine. Really." She was still looking suspicious, so he scrabbled for something to divert her attention from him. "You know, we should probably tell Britta and Abed. The sooner the better." Crap, that was a terrible idea, it would just prolong the agony. He ought to sit her down now and explain that this wasn't going to work. On the other hand, if the others knew they were in a relationship, they'd be around to help deal with the fallout when it all inevitably went south. Jeff had long since given up on the stupid notion that he didn't need friends.

"I don't know..." she said, eyeing him dubiously.

"Well, they already know we had sex," he pointed out, reasonably. "If we tell them we're dating, Britta is about ten percent less likely to cut off my balls." He tried a smirk. It wasn't up to his usual standards, but it would do. "See, I did learn something in my statistics class." Why, why had he brought that up!? Was it an unconscious attempt at self-sabotage?

Annie's smile was knocked back slightly, but recovered. "If you're really comfortable with that," she said, sounding hesitantly hopeful.

Jeff shrugged. "Honestly, how long do you think it'll take them to figure it out? It's just the most prudent, tactical move."

Her smile warmed. "You use that argument a lot, when it suits your purposes," she noted.

Jeff shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a prudent, tactical guy."

"Uh-huh, sure," she said, and leaned down to kiss him tenderly on the lips. She smelled like his soap, and his heart gave another painfully tight squeeze. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you're secretly a giant teddy bear."

He wanted to slide his hand through the gap in the towel to find her warm, damp skin, wrap his arms around her and pull her down on top of him, and spend the rest of the afternoon discovering all the things that drove her wild. Fear kept him motionless, and after a moment, Annie straightened up.

"I suppose I should get dressed," she said, looking slightly disappointed.

Jeff nodded, his voice trapped in his throat. He felt sick.

 

Annie dipped shyly down to gather up her clothes in one hand, holding onto the towel with the other. With a quick smile thrown in his direction, she disappeared with her bundle back towards the bathroom.

When she'd left, Jeff swore quietly and at great length, under his breath.

\---

"Ah, you survived," said Abed, looking up as they entered apartment 303. "What was it like? Did you have to fake-kiss to convince them? Was there an affecting declaration of feelings that secretly may or may not be true? Have you agreed to attend a cousin's out-of-town wedding as a couple, forcing you to share a bed and perhaps your deepest desires?"

"Spoilers, Abed," said Jeff.

"Ohhh," said Abed, looking between the two of them. He sat up. "Britta!" he called. "Exposition!"

Britta stuck her head out of Annie's room. "What—oh." She emerged completely, holding a set of hot rollers. "Did you have fun meeting the parents?" She smirked at Jeff.

"When the time comes, expect no mercy," said Jeff, but without much heat. He had bigger concerns.

"Are those my rollers?" said Annie, and then shook her head. "Never mind. I'm glad you're here; Jeff and I wanted to talk to both of you." She glanced at Jeff, and straightened slightly, seeming to draw strength from his presence. "As you probably guessed, Jeff and I..."

"Had sex last night," supplied Jeff, when she paused for too long. She gave him another look, less about drawing strength and more about rapping his knuckles.

"That," she said. "And then in the morning, there was the whole thing with my parents, which led to us pretending to be together, so they wouldn't get all judgy."

"Or try to have me arrested," added Jeff. Annie gave him another reproving look.

"The fake dating trope," nodded Abed. "We haven't done that in a while, so I guess we were due. It does suggest that we're moving into a character-development phase, which could be good or bad depending on whether our comedy derives from how badly we can mess up our lives, or the losers-make-good feel-good factor. As a purist, I think the former is funnier, but from a selfish point of view, I have to hope we're the latter."

The worst part, reflected Jeff, was that he'd actually understood all of that.

"You shouldn't have to lie to your parents about this, Annie," said Britta, her voice rising in the familiar soapbox cadence. "You're an adult; if you choose to have a one-night stand with this jerk, or _any_ jerk, that's your decision to make, not theirs. Don't let them police your body! Fight society's pressure!"

"Britta, shut up, you didn't even tell your parents where you _live_ ," said Annie.

Britta fell silent instantly, and Jeff eyed Annie with admiration.

"Anyway," said Annie. "The point is, the situation forced me and Jeff to confront a few things, and the upshot is, we've decided to give it a try, for real. Yes, Abed, just like the trope."

Abed nodded in acknowledgement.

 

"So, that's it," said Annie, a little more awkwardly. When she slipped her hand into his, a strong feeling of protectiveness shot through Jeff. "We're dating. We—we thought you ought to know."

There was a long silence.

Abed was the first to speak. "A romantic resolution at the start of the school year. It's an unconventional choice." He considered it, while Jeff mentally kicked himself for feeling nervous—for actually _wanting_ his friend’s approval. "I'll allow it," Abed concluded, nodding firmly. "Congratulations. Maybe this will be the season we tie up all the loose ends." He froze suddenly, staring into the middle distance. "Special guest stars," he breathed, and rose to his feet. "Excuse me, I need to go and make sure the Dreamatorium is in full working order."

"Uh, thanks?" called Jeff, to his retreating back. He shook his head, and turned back—only to receive the full force of Britta's glare. "Ouch."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked. "Annie, are you out of your mind? I mean, sleep with Jeff if you want—although why you'd want to, I don't know." She made a _totally unjustified_ gagging noise. "But that doesn't mean you have to date him!"

"Britta," said Annie, determinedly calm. "I appreciate that this might be hard for you to hear, but Jeff and I are in love."

Jeff's hand tightened around hers. It was largely terror, but hopefully she would interpret it as a sign of solidarity.

"Uh, _yeah_. Everyone knows that! We're not blind," sighed Britta, rolling her eyes. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the fact that he's _completely undateable_. Oh, deep down, he's a decent guy—but that's buried under three tons of father issues and narcissism and douchey ex-lawyer... stuff! You don't need to date a guy just because you've knocked boots and you think he's kind of dreamy! You don't need a man to complete you, Annie. And even if that's what you want—because women can make their own decisions and wanting to be in a relationship is an understandable urge—it shouldn't be _this_ man." She flailed her hands wildly. "Oh! Blade! Remember Blade, the ex I could never quite shake? Jeff is your Blade! You know, he might seem cool and sexy, and he might be able to knock a coconut over at thirty paces, but he—is—damaged—goods." 

Her stabbing finger never came near him, but Jeff nonetheless felt every word like an icepick to his heart.

"He'll try his best, because he cares about you, and yeah, he even loves you, in his own fucked-up way, but how long do you think he can maintain a real relationship before he cracks under the pressure? Like Blade did to me, like Andre did to Shirley, someday Jeff will screw everything up, Annie. He won't mean to do it, but he won't be able to help himself, because that's the kind of guy he is!"

"How can you say that, Britta? Jeff is your friend," protested Annie.

"You're my friend too, Annie," said Britta. "And I'm saying this now because I love both of you: this will end badly!" She met Jeff's eyes. "And you know it, don't you, Jeff? Because you don't believe in happy endings, so you have to break her heart before she breaks yours."

Without a word, Jeff dropped Annie's hand and stalked towards the nearest exit. As he closed the door behind him, he could hear voices beginning to rise in anger.


	4. I am the color of boom

By accident or subconscious design, he'd taken the door that led to Annie's room, rather than leaving the apartment altogether. He dropped heavily onto her bed and listened to the rise and fall of angry voices in the main room. In an odd, horrible way, it reminded him of his childhood. He eyed the window that led to the fire escape.

Just when he'd made up his mind that some distance would be a good thing for everyone, there was a tentative knock on the door, and Annie opened it a crack. "Jeff?"

"Still here," he said.

She came in and quietly closed the door behind her, leaning against it. "I yelled at Britta," she said. "A lot."

"Yeah. I heard."

Annie shook her head. "I know she means well, but oh my _god_ —"

"She's right, you know." He met Annie's startled eyes. "I _am_ going to fuck this up. Look at me: I'm already doing it."

"Jeff, _no_. You're not. That was all on Britta."

"Don't be too hard on her; she's always seen through me." He smiled, remembering. "She has douche-ray vision."

Annie stepped forward hurriedly, and grabbed his hands. He didn't resist; he felt like there was a hundred-pound slab on his shoulders, pressing him down. "Jeff, stop this. I guessed that you were freaking out earlier, but I thought maybe you just needed some time." 

"Annie." He looked up. "This isn't going to work."

Tears sprang to her eyes, and the feeling of guilt was immediate and searing. _Better to do it now,_ he reminded himself grimly. 

"Don't do this, don't give up so easily, Britta was just—"

"It's not because of what Britta said. I was already thinking it."

"No. _No._ " She straightened up and wiped briskly at her eyes. "I'm not letting you do this, Jeff—I'm not letting you talk your way out of this, just because you're scared!" She started to pace the room. "We just have to come up with a plan, that's all. We just need to lay it all out, and deal with it, head on." She turned to face him quickly. "What are you scared about? That you're going to do something terrible to ruin us? Because I know you do stupid things sometimes, but I also know you'd never hurt me on purpose. Anything else, we can fix. So that's just never going to happen. And if you freaked out and ran, I would get Abed and Troy and we would _hunt you down_ , and then I'd let Shirley guilt you and Britta therapize you until you decided to be awesome at this relationship just to prove them both wrong." She pinned him with a look and a stern finger, and he has absolutely no doubt that she meant every word.

Her fierceness warmed him—the idea that she simply wouldn't _allow_ him to fail, that the kind of hard work and determination she applied to everything else in life would also be aimed at their relationship, and that she'd use every resource at her disposal, including their interfering, wrongheaded, yet sometimes weirdly insightful friends—but suddenly her expression turned hesitant.

"Or—or is that it? Is it me?" The tiny wobble in her voice stabbed him straight in the heart. "Do you think I'll be too intense, and too controlling, and I'll never leave you alone? Because I can be loose! I can be laid-back, I just need to put my mind to it—"

"Annie, god, no, I'm not worried about you," he protested, feeling worse than ever. "There's not a single thing about you that I don't adore. Intensity and all."

For a moment she stared at him, her eyes going dreamy and wistful. Then she shook herself, and straightened up, all business. "This is _going to work_ ," she said. "What else? Are you worried about us breaking up and not being friends? What about if we agree never to break up? What if we decide, right now, that this is going to work out, and swear we'll be together forever, and if anything goes wrong, we have to work our way through it and never give up? What if—what if—" She sucked in a sharp breath, and spun to face him. "What if we got married? Right now. We could get Shirley's pastor to do it, or Rabbi Chang—or I'm pretty sure that Abed got himself ordained once, for shenanigan purposes. Would that work?"

For a long, embarrassing moment, Jeff wondered if he was about to pass out. "Annie, holy crap," he said weakly, when he could draw breath.

" _Would that work_?" she demanded, her eyes fierce. She meant it, he could tell. With every fiber of her being, Annie Edison—Annie the Day Planner, who always plotted her moves ten steps in advance, who knew at age seven how she wanted her life to turn out—was willing to go off-book and marry him right now, if that was what it would take to fix the stupid fears in his head.

He pushed quickly to his feet, grasped her waist, and kissed her. When he lifted his head, she was starry-eyed.

"Was that a yes?" she breathed.

He shook his head. "Annie... you are amazing, and I would be the luckiest man in the world to marry you. If I had slightly fewer scruples, I'd say yes in an instant."

"So _say_ yes. I'm being serious, Jeff—I'll do whatever it takes—"

"That's what scares me!" He tightened his hold on her, willing her to understand. "Don't you see? I don't want you to do something you'll regret!"

Annie gave a wordless scream, and smacked him in the chest. Hard. "Jeff, you idiot! Look, I could write an entire thesis on why I wouldn't regret anything with you. Do you want me to do that?" Her eyes got that manic gleam that he loved and feared in equal parts. "I can sketch out an outline right now. Chapter one: I am my own woman and I know what I'm doing. Chapter two: your anxieties don't know crap and you're a good man, Jeff Winger. Chapter three: all the ways we're good for each other and how we've improved each others' lives. Chapter four—"

"I get it, I get it—please don't write a thesis," begged Jeff. "Jesus. You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

" _Yes_. Look, Jeff, I was willing to let it go, before—I figured you probably didn't feel as strongly about me as I do about you, because if you did, you'd have done something about it already. But now I know you love me, and if you think for _one second_ that I'm going to let you go, just because you're scared..." She shook her head, hair flying. "Have you _met_ me?"

Jeff gave a breathless laugh, feeling like he was freefalling. "I'm beginning to think I don't have much choice," he said.

Her eyes gleamed, but she straightened and looked haughtily at him. "That's because there's only one sensible option, and you're finally beginning to see that I'm right."

Slowly, pulse quickening with anticipation, he pulled her closer. "I'm a lot of work," he warned her.

Annie shrugged one shoulder. "What makes you think I want an easy relationship? Anyway, you're not as difficult to handle as you'd like to think."

Jeff conceded the point. "I think we should put a pin in the wedding idea. I have kind of a history of trying that, and I don't want to make any mistakes with you."

"You can make mistakes," said Annie. "In fact, I think it's pretty much inevitable that we both will. But we don't have to get married. It was just an idea."

He nodded. "Okay. And if you're unhappy with me, you need to tell me. I want warnings. Red flags. Time to fix whatever I'm doing wrong."

"An annotated list of all the ways you're pissing me off," said Annie. "Got it."

Jeff grimaced. "Why do I get the feeling that this list already exists, and that it has a color-coded index?"

Annie just grinned.

"God, you're so... What's wrong with me if that's kind of a turn-on?"

"From my point of view, absolutely nothing," she said, sliding her hands around his sides. "So," she said.

"So," said Jeff. He could feel the rapid thudding of her heart, matching his own. He hesitated, partly in fear, partly in wonder—and partly because he loved to see her squirm.

Her cheeks flushed, and the tiny frown he adored appeared between her eyebrows. Finally, she squeaked in frustration. He could tell she was only just managing to stop herself from stamping her foot. "Jeff, I'm warning you, if you don't kiss me _right n_ —"

\---

"I seem to be saying this a lot lately, but... we should talk."

Britta—face down on Abed's bed—didn't lift her head, so her words were muffled. "Ugh. I've already apologized to your _girlfriend_ ," she said. "What more do you want?"

He stayed silent, and finally she looked up. He had to smile at her flushed cheeks and angry glare. "I don't want your apology, Britta." He sat down next to her. "I want your help."

Britta sat up at this, eyeing him with a mix of hope and suspicion. "You want _my_ help? Why? To do what?"

"Look, the thing is, that stuff you said..." Jeff sighed heavily, and plucked at a crease in his jeans. "It's all true. Or, it has the potential to be true, at least."

She leaned forward impulsively, putting her hand on his arm. "You're not a bad person, Jeff," she said hastily. "It's just that you're—"

"A massive screw-up, I know." He pressed the crease flat, watching as it sprang back. "It's why I resisted this for so long. I'm... scared, I guess. That I'm going to subconsciously sabotage this relationship because of some messed-up idea that, if I can control how it goes wrong, then somehow it won't be a chaotic disaster that ends up with Annie never speaking to me again, you all having to pick sides, and me losing _everyone_."

Britta made a noise of protest, and Jeff shook his head; now wasn't the time to debate the group dynamics.

"The thing is, I don't want to be like that. I don't want to ruin this. And Annie believes..." He smiled self-consciously. "Well, I guess you've already had an earful of what Annie believes. She wants to give it a try, because she thinks I can be a better man." He looked up. "That's why I need your help. I need you to keep me honest."

"I don't know, Jeff," said Britta. "You remember I told you once that you were way out of my league, diagnostically-speaking?"

"I don't want you to be my therapist, Britta," said Jeff. "I want you to be my friend with no filter, who'll point out when I'm being a jerk. You know, basically be you. I don't want you to hold back because you're friends with both of us and you think it'll be weird, or because you and I used to date, or anything."

"Hook up, not date," she corrected.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, I just need to know that you'll be on board with _not_ being on board with this, okay?"

Britta considered him for a long, quiet moment. "Is this your sneaky way of getting me invested in your relationship?" she asked, finally.

Jeff gave a blinding flash of a grin. "Maybe. If it's working."

"You _jerk_! I thought you were being sincere!"

He caught her hand before it could connect, and held onto it. "I was! I am! Look, I really do care what you think, and I know Annie does, too. And if you're not happy about us being together, well, that's going to suck, because it's happening, whether you like it or not—and whether or not I think it'll end up as a disaster, I guess."

Britta eyed him curiously. "But are you happy?" she asked. "No, strike that, it's a dumb question—of course you are, it's _Annie_ , you've been crazy in love with her since forever." She sighed heavily. "Look. I'm still worried that this will all go horribly wrong, but I guess if you're doing this, then I've got your back, bro."

"Thanks, Britta," he said, surprised to find that he was genuinely grateful.

There was a soft knock, and Annie leaned into the open doorway. Britta quickly tugged her fingers out of Jeff's grasp, and flashed her a guilty smile, managing to Britta a perfectly innocent situation, in Jeff's opinion.

"Many people would feel upset or threatened to find their new boyfriend on a bed, holding hands with someone he's nearly married three times," said Annie, airily. "Fortunately, I'm not one of them."

"Ugh, as _if_ ," grumbled Britta. "The giant sleazebag is all yours."

Annie gave Jeff a smug little grin that made him want to kiss her. "Yeah, I know."

"That reminds me," said Jeff, pursing his lips and gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "How soon is too soon to suggest a threesome?"

"Oh my _god_ , Jeff," exclaimed Annie. "Britta—"

"I'm on it," said Britta, diving backwards for one of Abed's pillows and dealing him a solid thwack across the back of the head. "For the sisterhood!"

"You know, this is just feeding—hey, ow—feeding into the fantasy—no, stop!" Annie, laughing, had grabbed his ankles and twisted, using some kind of super-efficient judo move to flip him so he fell face-first onto the bed, where she immediately pretzeled his legs up behind him. Britta, meanwhile, was still hitting him with the pillow. "Not fair! Uncle, uncle, _uncle_!"

 

\---

"I'm gonna introduce you to my mom properly," said Annie, in a tone of voice that suggested it was a treat and not some kind of karmic retribution. "Not my dad, though—not until he apologizes."

"I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies."

She ignored this. "Not right away, of course. But I think, with a little preparation, we can do better than _that_."

Jeff considered it. "I guess we could hardly do worse. I mean, unless I tried to hump your leg at the dinner table."

"Jeff, _ew_."

"Or I could wear a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, and a pair of half-moon glasses, and insist that you call me 'sir'," he mused.

She smacked his chest with the back of her hand—but then ruined it by giggling. "Oh my god, my mom would literally kill you." She snuggled closer. "For the record, though, I think you'd look hot in glasses."

"Aha, so now we uncover your secret professor fetish. I should have known."

"Do I need to bring up, 'like a schoolgirl, but not in a hot way'?"

"No, no—absolutely not," he said hastily. "Let's forget all about it. Unless you're into roleplay, in which case, go on."

"Mmph. Not that roleplay," said Annie, casually.

Jeff shuffled down so that they were face to face in his bed. "Tell me more."

But Annie just rolled her eyes. "You don't access that level of detail until you've been dating me for, like, one month _minimum_ ," she informed him. "Which reminds me—"

"We haven't actually been on a date yet," he said. "I know." He settled his arms more comfortably around her naked form. He might not be the world's best boyfriend, but he was pretty confident that he was off to a good start, given how loudly Annie had been expressing her appreciation, not half an hour ago. "Where do you want to go? Can I take you to dinner? Or I found this great bar recently..."

"Dinner would be nice," said Annie. "Let's try it sober, this time."

"Okay, but you know I make the best decisions when I'm drunk."

Annie scoffed.

"No, I do," he insisted. He stroked his fingers through the fine hairs at her temple, trailing his hand down to cup her jaw. Annie's eyes softened instantly, and she snuggled closer.

"You're really a giant sap, aren't you?"

"Well, don't tell anyone. Think of my reputation," he said, eliciting a chuckle. "But you could spread it around that I'm a god in bed, if you wanted—you know, look exhausted, wince a little when you sit down, go dreamy-eyed whenever my penis is mentioned, that kind of thing."

Annie patted his chest. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

They lay in silence for a while.

"Maybe, for verisimilitude, we should keep getting caught making out all over campus," she said, apparently mulling over the idea. "And you could wait after class for me, and bring me flowers—something simple and elegant. And—"

Jeff rolled swiftly so she was underneath him. "Are you suggesting that we pretend to the entire school that I'm the perfect boyfriend, to make everyone jealous and maybe get ourselves crowned the Greendale equivalent of prom king and queen?"

"Well…" Annie looked uncertain.

"I love it. We should definitely do that."

Her face broke into a sunny smile—which turned devious with dizzying speed. "We'll have to recruit Abed to help, of course," she said, already plotting. "And it'll really annoy Britta, so it's the ideal revenge."

Jeff propped himself up on his elbows, tangling his fingers in her hair as it splayed out across the pillow.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing." She continued to look quizzically at him, and he shook his head. "No, it's just..." He took a breath. Might as well just come out and say it. "You really are the perfect woman for me, aren't you?"

"Well, duh," she retorted, but her eyes were sparkling. "Took you long enough."


End file.
